even in the dust we shine
by ausllydawmoon
Summary: He doesn't believe in more than two chances, but she isn't ready to give up just yet. Raura one-shot.


They dated. They broke up. They got back together. He wasted his second chance on a drunken mistake.

He believes that second chances are all you get, that if you screw up a second time, you don't care enough and therefore you don't deserve any more opportunities.

As much as it pains him, he supposes that he must not have cared enough. It's unfortunate, really. What they had was so good, so pure, so incredibly innocent and magical that it must've been lightning in a bottle, for in the many years since they broke up the second time he hasn't found anything else quite like what they had.

He doesn't think about his past with her very much. At least, not the relationship aspect of it. The memories of their time together are like an old photo album you put in the attic years and years ago. Over time, you kind of forget about it, but every once in a while when you go upstairs to clean, you find the album, blow off the dust, and smile in the nostalgia of the good old days.

He hasn't seen her in a while. They're still friends, kind of. More like acquaintances at this point, but neither of them has the heart or the desire to admit that this is what their relationship has been reduced to-one step up from strangers.

He's going to be seeing her soon, though. Once his band is done touring next month, it's back to the set for him as a movie based off their hit show starts production. It took years for the movie to get announced, something about budgeting and the uncertainty of how much of an audience it will have, but the movie did get picked up, finally.

Honestly, he's thrilled about it. It's been forever since they filmed the finale, and now that he and his friends are all working together again reprising their old characters, he's happy.

But the thing is, the two of them haven't seen each other since they broke up. They talk occasionally, but it's not the same. It's a little nerve-wracking to know you're going to have to not only spend every day for a few months with your ex-girlfriend, but also act like you're in love with her. It won't be too hard, but it'll still be awkward.

She knows that he knows he won't get another chance, but he _doesn't_ think she knows he's still in love with her.

* * *

When he sees her for the first time in years, his mind goes numb and he grins so wide his face might fall off. When he hugs her and he's _holding_ her for the first time in years, he may as well just die right there because then he would've died happy.

"I've missed you."

Those three words, uttered so quietly into the fabric of his t-shirt, barely even audible, have so much hope in them. _Too_ much hope. Enough hope to make him think about the _what ifs_. He's filled with it, and he doesn't like it.

There are different kinds of hope, and unfortunately he got stuck with the bad kind.

There's the kind that makes him _wish_ that the what ifs he's come up with could be true. The kind that dreams are made of, the kind that you make wishes with, the kind that fuels the myths and legends children grow up with. It's the kind of hope that isn't so much of a belief or faith as it is a way to think of all the possibilities, imagine the best things to distract oneself from the worst.

But _this_ is the kind of hope he isn't allowed to have. _This_ hope is the kind that makes him wonder if maybe he _will_ get another chance, the kind that not only allows him to _imagine_ the best possibilities, but also to see them coming to reality. It's the kind of hope that is dangerous, the kind that'll end in heartbreak if he isn't careful.

"I've missed you, too."

Four words, so full of the hope she gave him, whispered into her hair with the longing of five years of drifting apart.

She tightens her grip around him, and the hope builds up even more. He tries not to think about it, he really does, but the way that her warm breaths on his chest and her arms around him heat up his entire body doesn't help his situation.

She pulls away from him and her gaze locks with his. He finds himself hypnotized by her swirling brown irises, so full of emotion they look about ready to burst, and so complex and swarming with the thoughts and desires crowding her mind that if he doesn't tear his eyes away soon he feels as though he might get lost in them forever.

"So how was tour? It looked like a blast," she starts, seeming to be making an attempt at normal conversation.

"It was," he replies. "I love it."

The word leaves a sour taste in his mouth. _Love_. He doesn't _love_ tour. Sure, he likes it a lot, but as he stares into the big brown eyes of what he _truly_ loves, touring the world doesn't even compare.

"I can't wait to go on a world tour," she says wistfully. "Just the U.S. was amazing."

He smiles at her. "Yeah, you've been rocking it. Your albums are amazing."

She's released two albums so far, and he listens to both of them on a daily basis.

"Thanks," she says with a shy smile and a tint of pink on her cheeks.

Then they stare at each other in silence once again, drinking each other up, trying to memorize this moment before the inevitable crash and burn of whatever they have left.

He finds himself staring at her lips, and his mind wanders into dangerous territory: all the memories he's tried keeping locked up for years. Suddenly he's consumed with the feeling of kissing her, a feeling he hasn't had in years. He can feel her in his arms, smell her intoxicating scent, taste her lips on his, hear his heart pounding in his ears and see the darkness behind his closed eyelids swarming with visions of her.

He swallows and licks his lips, averting his gaze back up to her eyes.

"Why did you cheat on me?" she whispers. And just like that, the serenity and peace is gone. They can't hide behind small talk and watch each other in awed silence any longer, for now the elephant in the room has been brought to attention and there's no turning back. The tiny thread of hope they're holding on to is about to be snapped, and he knows that in the past few minutes his hopes have climbed so high he'll feel it hard in his heart when they come crashing down.

"I don't know," he whispers back, ashamed that that's the best response he can give her. It's the truth, but that doesn't mean it doesn't pain him to admit it.

"I loved you."

"I loved you too."

He looks at her, and she looks at him. He can see the longing in her eyes, and he really wishes that he couldn't. She isn't making this any easier for him.

"I _love_ you."

Three more words that fill him to the brim with hope, the bad kind of hope, but the kind of hope that he wants to have. Three words that he's been dying to hear since the last time he heard them, that he's dying to hear over and over and over again in her beautiful voice until his ears stop working and his brain goes numb. Three words that bring him back to life and kill him at the same time because he knows he doesn't deserve them. Three words that truly make or break everything they've worked so hard to keep intact.

"I love you too." He whispers it so quietly he isn't sure if she hears it, and maybe it's best if she doesn't. There isn't anything they can do now; he gave up his second chance and he surely isn't getting a third. Their words are just going to hang over their heads forever, filling their minds with screams of _what if_ and sneaking into their deepest desires to haunt them till they sink into insanity.

But the change in her eyes tells him she _did_ hear him, and they stare at each other, once again surrounded by silence. He can't help but imagine that this is the way things are going to be now, no words to be said, just deafening silence and haunting thoughts.

"I-I'm not mad about it anymore," she says quietly, as if she's afraid that breaking the silence will cause the world to fall on top of them. "I miss being with you."

"I had a second chance and I blew it," he whispers. "I don't deserve a third."

He has to lean in to hear her properly. "I should be the one to decide that, don't you think?"

"You'd give me a million chances if you could."

"Exactly."

"That's 999,998 more chances than I deserve."

"Ross, I want to be with you."

He stares at her. She's taken the old photo album off the shelf, blown the dust off, and carried it back downstairs. She's refused to forget about it again.

"I can't-"

"I'm giving you another chance. You should do the same."

He swallows, and she apparently takes it as a sign that he agrees because suddenly he's overwhelmed with that feeling of kissing her again, except this time it's real.

He kisses her back with the emotion of missing her for years, and he holds her with the desperation of a man who got his hopes up way too high and is afraid to watch them fall. She's everything he remembers her to be and more, and he thinks that maybe the old photo album _does_ deserve to be remembered again.

She pulls away from him slowly, hesitantly, as if she's afraid that she'll never be able to do that again, and she looks up at him, the silence enveloping them once again. But it isn't really silence, not really, because his heart is hammering in his ears and his mind is screaming at him that he loves her.

"I want you to give yourself another chance," she says slowly, her eyes looking deep into his darkest thoughts and bringing them into the light, showing him that things aren't as bad as they seem, that this is something he deserves.

He swallows and nods, and when she smiles at him, he thinks that maybe she's right, because if he's the reason her smile is lighting up the world like it should be then he should really stick around.

* * *

 **I'm emo and there's nothing you can do about it. Thanks for reading and please review! :)**


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